"Ladies and gentlemen, we greet you once again from our new internationally renowned show, the Blue Lock reality show."
Abigail looked up at the television as soon as she heard the translated voice of one of the two presenters, her blue eyes fixed on the LED screen.
Her landlord sat in the armchair with his legs spread wide and a thick glass filled with cognac in his right hand. His cold, mean eyes attentive just like those of the Russian blonde.
The woman between the two presenters (Abigail decided to refer to her as Селеста given her light blue hair) smiled seductively toward the cameras.
"Our audience is reaching simply astounding dimensions." she stated, probably looking at a screen with the program analyses.
Then she turned to her colleague with a sly, assertive look, leaning toward him almost to whisper in his ear.
"Could it be that they are waiting for someone in particular?"
The man snickered, nodding at the woman's words and pressing something on the notebook placed in front of him. In real time, a close-up of a person who by now Abigail and her master knew all too well appeared behind them.
"Our Joker card is looking good today-"
Abigail held back a smile, sensing the anxiety and terror dilute from her body and a feeling of warmth and serenity coursing through her veins. Her ice-blue eyes scanned the fake boy's gold-bronze face with meticulous attention.
Nicole was smiling.
Nicole was talking.
Nicole was walking.
Nicole was still alive.
Abigail hadn't slept well those last few nights: her pale face, paler than usual, and the dark circles under her eyes only barely hidden by the concealer she was ordered to wear, were clear results of her insomnia.
Short sleep was not an unfamiliar concept to her. Several times she had lost hours of rest because of the carnal needs of the man, who sometimes woke her up at night just to be satisfied.
But it was different.
It was different from waking up sweating, with an exaggerated heartbeat, heavy and labored breathing, lungs burning and a twinge in the chest so painful that it felt like being pierced by a dagger.
It was different from opening her eyes when they were already full of tears, only to find herself in the darkness of the same room she dreamed of every night.
It was different from waking up with a jolt caused by the sound of a gunshot that was actually nothing more than the source of her now shattered psyche.
It was different from being forced, every time she surrendered to Morpheus' embrace, to see a bullet pierce the forehead of a girl for whom, despite not truly knowing her, she had learned to feel affection for.
And until that moment the Russian blonde, not knowing whether the young Italian girl had taken her own life when away from the eyes of others, had lived with an anguish and neurotic anxiety that seemed to devour her alive.
She had become so physically weak that even the old man, her master, had found her less sexually arousing than usual. Because of her unhealthy condition, another young woman of the staff was receiving his unwanted attentions, although Abigail remained the favored victim.
"Oh would you look at that. She hasn't hanged herself somewhere yet." the man indifferently said, taking another sip of cognac and leaving the liquid in his mouth for a few long seconds before swallowing it completely.
Abigail immediately wiped away the smile and lowered her head, not wanting her master to notice her relieved mood.
"I'll admit I was slightly worried about our celebrity, in the last few episodes he didn't seem so much in his element." the female host said, causing the other one to nod.
"Indeed, ever since the master striker of the German stratum refused to let him play in the Bastard München vs Manshine City game. Now, that was a shocking low blow." he added, and on the screen, next to the close-up of the redhead who now seemed to be talking to the two coaches of FC Barcha and the Ubers, appeared the image of the austere white-haired athlete.
"For those of you who have joined us recently, we would like to remind you that the coach of the German stratum is none other than the world's famous number one striker, Noel Noa." the woman informed the audience, resting her chin on the back of her hand and looking intently at the camera, adding a "Wonder what convinced such a brilliant strategist and athlete not to play his best card?"
Nicole's adoptive father snorted at the reporter's rhetorical question, setting his glass down on the table beside him and crossing one ankle on the opposite knee.
"She pissed them off." he commented, drawing Abigail's gaze to himself.
"Sir?" she asked confused, not expecting such calm confidence from the man. She was honestly still waiting for an outburst or a series of threats directed at both the redhead and, eventually, at her.
But he did nothing out of the ordinary, merely staring with cold cruelty at the LED screen, his eyes fixed on the girl's red ones that were now looking at the camera pointed at her, almost as if she sensed the myriad of unfamiliar gazes that were watching her.
"She obviously did something that made them realize they don't know how to keep her at bay, and this is the result." he added a little later, and Abigail nodded slowly at his words.
She supposed that was the cause of his calm attitude: certainly.
Actually, his behavior's change had occurred on that infamous night when the redhead figure had entered through the main door, with a gun which sight first pointed at the father's head and then at her own.
So Abigail understood what her master was implying.
The Blue Lock had done nothing but prove that they were too weak, maybe close minded, too ignorant to handle Nike's fiery personality properly: not only had they let her unleash herself only once, in that game against U-20, but in those 18 years of life during which the girl had always had absolute control over her emotions, they had managed in a few months to provoke bouts of neurosis and instincts of suicide and homicide.
And if there was one thing Abigail and the old man knew about Nicole, it was that control of her own mind and feelings was the thing she cared about most.
The only thing she was proud of possessing. Hers and only hers.
And in that facility, she was losing it.
Her independence, at least the independence she enjoyed despite her father's cruel presence, had been completely compromised.
Forced in the same place, to submit to rules she probably didn't like. In a team sport when she had never been on a team and had never wanted to be on one. Under the control of a man who had tried to humiliate her, to show her who knows what, by putting her up for auction.
The old man was certain that once Nicole realized she was being suppressed even more, she would come back to him.
"Well, he's with us again today, though, and he seems more buoyant than usual. Do you think he and Lavinho knew each other before the Blue Lock? They seem close." resumed the announcer, smiling slightly when he saw the older one side hugging the younger, cheerfully talking to the Ubers' coach.
"I think it's just the warmth of their cultures that makes them act like that." commented the woman, smiling at the screen.
"Mind the gibberish, because I'm more than convinced that all our viewers are asking the same question. What is Nicklaus Vinciguerra doing at the match between FC Barcha and Ubers?" the man offered the question to the audience, subsequently pressing something on the screen and causing a second interface to appear in the background behind him.
"After the match between Bastard München and Manshine City, the director of Blue Lock made some changes within the organizational structure, bringing Nicklaus Vinciguerra out of the German team by affixing him with the title of Joker card on the loose." he explained, probably reading the script somewhere in front of him.
The woman nodded, continuing the speech of her colleague: "That is why there have been also some changes in the regulations: as a Joker card, Nicklaus will not officially belong to any team."
"But this was already a known feature in the time before the matches began, during the third selection, which unfortunately we did not witness. The difference now is that the choice of which team to play with, for a maximum duration of half a game, is totally up to our celebrity. Incredible isn't it? A card that chooses the deck to belong to." finished the woman with a smile, then blinking and pressing the earpiece she had in her left ear.
She looked at her colleague and nodded.
"From the control room they say the game is about to start. I'm really curious which of the two teams Nicklaus has chosen. I'll bet anything you want on the Ubers: their defensive strategy is a nice trade-off with his attacking ability." the man stated, and the other host laughed slightly and shook her head, countering with a "I'll bet you a paid dinner that he picks FC Barcha."
And only a few moments later the woman smiled mockingly and the man sighed, asking her which restaurant she wanted to go to.
Inside the facility in the meantime, the two teams were arranging their lineups.
Nicole was listening to the words of the FC Barcha's coach, who very quickly and with little technical vocabulary was explaining what was the game strategy they had chosen for the eventuality, no longer eventuality, of having her on the team.
"-and then you run, you kick, and boom. Win." how Nicole was managing to decipher his words was a mystery.
The redhead nodded at the enthusiastic man, positioning herself where she was told: center forward, in front of everyone.
Her eyes soon met Barou's slightly lighter and brighter ones, and the boy looked at her almost as if he were trying to figure out how to eat her.
They were quite fixated with devouring others in that place.
"Just cooperate with the canary, okay? He's weird but you're weird too, so it's fina." whispered Lavinho in her ear once he leaned toward her shoulder, his breath warm against the skin of her neck.
His amber eyes, just like the girl's, shifted to the black-and-red-striped-haired figure who had not stopped scrutinizing them for a second.
"Also, I don't know if you noticed but gorilla guy keeps looking at you like you're his favorite snack." whispered the obvious, almost as if the guy he was talking about wasn't standing two meters in front of them.
"I'm an all meal, Lavinho." whispered Nicole in turn, turning her face just enough for her breath to caress the cheek of the man at her side.
"I'll make him starve..." she then murmured with a grin, forcing Lavinho to turn his own face towards hers, their heads so inches apart that he could almost feel their skins touch.
"GOOD!" suddenly thundered the Brazilian coach, still too close to the girl's poor ear.
When everyone shifted their attention to the dancer striker, Nicole's red eyes turned to the boy standing at the back of the field, whose gems so chromatically different and yet so emotionally equal were already fixed on her.
"You good?" she saw him mimic the question with his lips, and she only nodded.
Good.
By now she did not know what "good" meant.
Just the previous night she was staring blankly into the void, while her cheeks ached from the copious tears of pain, anguish and disbelief streaking her face like the nails of a demon trying to give comfort.
And now there she was, with cameras from every corner ready to follow her every slightest movement, playing a game in which others regarded her as nothing more than a lucky accessory, wearing a confident mask as if it were tailor-made for her.
"FC Barcha vs Ubers." the metallic voice suddenly resounded, and Nicole straightened her back.
Her eyes wandered over the people decanting to her, bringing back to her mind all the individual details she had observed when she first trained with them. Her memory forced images concerning their positions, their steps, their group movements. Marc Snuffy's voice explaining to her the strategic structure of the team, the system that revolved around two particular players.
She closed her eyelids, inhaling deeply and erasing all thoughts from her head.
Then, slowly, the cage of her eyelashes opened wide, and her blood-red irises met the fiery red ones of the opposing striker.
And finally, a whistle interrupted the silence.
French stratum
"LOOK AT THOSE FUCKING LEGS, FUCK-"
The French layer coach ignored Shidou Ryusei's comment, carefully watching Nicole's body jerk as soon as the starting whistle sounded from the speakers.
The redhead immediately dodged the larger, more powerful body of the black-haired boy, Barou Shoei, spinning around as she passed him and sprinting away.
Her eyes moved calculatingly over each character in front of her: the positions, the distances between them, what were the most flexed muscles that would betray their intentions even before they could act.
Julian Loki smiled.
Marc Snuffy feared Nicklaus Vinciguerra, and it was so obvious.
It was evident from the defensive nature of the Italian team's formation, even more defensive than the one that had been used in the match against Paris X Gen.
6 players grouped in the center, 4 in front of the goal: basically 10 out of 11 players were defenders. The only attacker, whom the protagonist had already passed with ease, was also the only one who could perhaps try to chase her down like a predator chasing a prey.
Too bad Nicole Vinciguerra was everything but a sitting duck.
The girl looked up in front of her, not stopping despite the trapezoidal structure of the defense a few meters away from her. Looking at them, the most suitable option was to try to break the shield on the left: one of them was the striker of the former Japanese U-20 team, and the chances that he lacked defensive skills were high.
A few moments later beside her was running a boy with a contented smile on his face and yellow eyes that shone brighter than fireflies at night.
"I'm so glad I get to play with the devil again." this one affirmed as he cast a glance at her, his feet quick on the faux lawn of the field.
Nicole struck the ball with the inside of her foot, sending it to the boy on her right.
"Let's see if you're sinful enough to keep up with me." she affirmed, snapping right after to the left and leaving the dribbler alone in front of Niko.
The latter clenched his jaw for a moment, shifting his gaze from redhead to two-tone haired striker several times, not knowing who to look at. His gaze shifted a little further behind, noting that Barou was still chasing Nicklaus despite the absence of the ball.
"Eyes on Bachira it is." said the runt of the litter to himself.
Nicole noticed the six remain still in their positions, refusing to break the impenetrable shield.
Her gaze moved over her own shoulder, making eye contact with two sharp emeralds.
Good.
She looked ahead again and increased her pace, sprinting faster than Bachira and interrupting their alignment. She ducked when she got in front of the two defenders standing at the left end, avoiding a tackle.
First break in.
Her eyes moved on the bicolor haired boy, and when by then half her body had crossed the defensive boundary, Bachira kicked the ball to her and started to run faster.
Nicole, still turned on her side, opened her hand still beyond the shield and extended her opposite foot. As soon as her palm collided with Barou's imposing chest, the sphere landed on the toe of her shoe.
She used the contact between her and the Ubers' attacker to give herself a boost and again establish a minimum distance between her and the predator, resuming running.
The synapses in her nervous system were quick to exchange information now that she was surrounded by all 11 players, 7 behind and 4 in front of her.
Niko heard Barou cursing and, turning his head to see how the redhead's figure shattered their defense, he wasn't able to confront the canary boy who cunningly took advantage of his distraction and went through the line up.
Second break in.
Nicole eyes soon met those of different colors of Oliver, who with a grin stepped in front of her and opened his own imposing body to tackle her.
"Here for a round two, red fox?" he asked in an allusive tone, bringing back to her memory the final goal of the game between Blue Lock and Japan U-20.
Nicole returned the wry smile, watching him from under her long eyelashes.
"Don't you want it? Usually you beg for it." she commented just as allusively, striking the ball with the inside of her left shoe and quickly sending it toward the far right side of the field.
Otoya, unnoticed, had managed to penetrate the defense, which had momentarily forgotten that there was more than just Barchira and Nicklaus on the field.
Third break in.
Oliver's attention immediately shifted to the right, noticing how the shield had been passed by not two, but as many as three people: this meant that each defender in front of the goal would have one person to tackle.
Fuck.
If only one of them failed to do so, the other two defenders couldn't come to the rescue without risking releasing another opposing attacker as well.
"You look annoyed. You sure you'll have enough stamina for a third round after this?" Nicole asked, her red eyes as venomous as they were extremely beautiful.
Oliver forced a grin on his lips, looking down at the girl.
But his gaze immediately shifted to the center as soon as he heard the familiar sound of a kick. He opened his eyes wide when he saw that Otoya had successfully gotten past Aryu's defense, coming dangerously close to the goal area.
Unfortunately for the ninja striker, both Oliver and Don Lorenzo decided to leave their positions to stop him.
And as soon as the boy with the green lock of hair hit the ball with the intention of scoring, the oldest between the two defenders stepped into the ball's path, interrupting the shot and bouncing the sphere against his heel.
Don Lorenzo grinned, showing his gold teeth and rambling about the ease with which he had blocked the attack.
His smile grew when the person with the highest economic value in there suddenly appeared in front of him, attempting to hit the ball from above his heel.
"Oh, if it isn't the most valuable piece of the action-" the man commented, quickly moving the sphere behind himself and preventing Nicklaus from touching it.
However, he didn't even have time to see the cunning light illuminating the redhead's dark eyes that, having stopped the ball out of his own line of sight, someone kicked it, causing him to lose both his smile and balance.
1–0
The whistle resounded in the room and Lorenzo immediately turned around, his big eyes fixed on the one who had scored the goal.
Bachira Muguru, the goalie, laughed thunderously, jumping on the girl and hugging her from the front, his arms around her neck and his legs around her waist.
"THOSE ARE MY KIDS, YA-" Lavinho received surrendered looks from the players on the bench.
Don Lorenzo looked at the two, confused.
Why had that little monster, someone with relatively low economic value, been the one to score the goal?
"A pack hunters' attack? I wouldn't have expected something like that from Nicklaus. Usually he either does nothing or takes all the attention." stated Niko, his eyes also fixed on the duo.
Well, trio considering Otoya who stood beside them with his hands in his pockets and his thin eyes fixed on the protagonist.
Niko watched them carefully, thinking back to their group attack: so clean and brutal and fast. Something that was able to shutter tremendously their most defensive formation.
Otoya, invisible and agile.
Bachira, flexible and energic.
Nicklaus, incalculable and illogic.
A trio of pack hunters.
The worst enemy a good defense could confront.
"You have to expect everything and nothing from Nicklaus." Oliver said with a sigh, however, unable not to smile wryly as he saw that the girl's spicy temper was, at least in appearance, coming back to the fore.
Marc Snuffy watched the redhead carefully, following him with his gaze as he and the other two strikers of the pack began walking toward their stations.
A cunning group attack: he had not calculated such a conclusion. Not when Nicklaus had shown a preference for solo play.
His analytical eyes shifted to the Ubers' main striker, noting the almost obsessive attention he was giving the young Italian. Marc had thought that, at least from an attacking standpoint, they both had in common a preference to shine alone.
He was wrong.
Just like him, the other master strikers (we exclude Lavinho because he is too busy doing his victory dance) were analyzing the situation for their own interests.
Julian motioned a boy from his team, Charles Chevalier, to approach him.
The French midfielder with big, round eyes and a distinctive snapped canine approached his coach, stepping beside him to hear what he had to say.
"I'll ask him for a training session with us. So study him well: tomorrow I want you to try to focus your game on him, just as you are doing for Itoshi Rin and Shidou Ryusei." the French prodigy said with a smile, hailing a nod from the boy whose attention was now fixed on the redhead.
The Paris X Gen, unlike the other teams, had never had the opportunity to train with the Joker Card: at the beginning of the neo-egoist league Ego Jinpachi had not deemed it necessary for Nicklaus to confront a master striker he already knew.
And having participated in only one match, the one between Bastard München and FC Barcha, there had not even been a chance to study his style.
"Roger coach." the midfielder said, giving the 17-year-old the chance to turn away and head toward a second person.
Rin, whose shoulders were resting against the wall at the back of the room, gave his attention to the French coach when he saw him approach him with a smile.
Julian Loki, sly smile, Nicklaus Vinciguerra on the main screen: this was not ending well.
"What?" the green-haired boy asked in an icy, defensive tone, already having some idea of what the other was about to propose.
Julian stood beside the boy, looking at the screen when the second whistle sounded from the speakers.
Ubers' kick-off.
"I remember in the second selection you two-" it was clear he meant Nicklaus "-were not on good terms."
Of course he still remembered the way the Italian character had humiliated him in front of the Team World Five.
"Did anything change in the third selection?"
Rin held back a sigh, merely closing his eyelids for a moment and ignoring the "Yeah! Smash his skull, guygal!" from the maniac with the antennae on his head.
He slowly opened wide his teal eyes contoured by his long, thick lashes, aiming his glacial, careful gaze at the redhead boy who had stolen his brother's respect.
"No, we never got along. Not that it's any surprise since he decided to partner up with that lunatic over there-" Julian didn't even have to turn around to know that the lunatic Rin was referring to was Shidou.
"It might prove useful to establish a relationship with him. It might help you evolve." the French prodigy commented, leaning his head over one shoulder when he saw the redhead champion leaning her back toward the Ubers's striker's chest.
He saw her put the entire weight on him, taking his momentum of confusion to strike the ball with her heel, sending it under his legs.
Otoya quickly passed behind Barou's back, receiving the ball and kicking it to Bachira.
"Evolve? I'm first in the rank." countered the greenette defensively, clenching his jaw as the coach turned to him with that gentle, highly confident smile.
"Second." he corrected him, then added, "Nicklaus Vinciguerra is not on the general rank since he's the Joker card, but in the auction that was made especially for him he's valued three times more than you."
Rin's glacial eyes seemed to want to pierce his skull because of how intensely he was looking at him. But Julian did not flinch in the slightest, merely pulling away from the wall with that calm, even smile of his that never revealed signs of spite or anger.
"And out of here you are second to me and so many other footballers, including your brother."
Rin bit his tongue at that stark truth spoken in such a warm tone.
Julian bent his head over one shoulder, his narrow pupils contoured by bright hazel-colored irises.
"Are you sure you don't need him?"
The unanswered question was followed by more exultation, and they both shifted their attention to the screen, watching the red-haired figure being grabbed by Lavinho and slung over his shoulder for what they assumed was a celebration.
2–0
"Think about it, Rin Itoshi. Before you become second to someone who wasn't as prideful."
German stratum
"The hell man, if it goes on like this it will end 10-0."
Kurona, who was fixing his braid, nodded at Gin Gagamaru's words, watching the screen from his cross-legged position on the ground.
Beside him Isagi sighed, abandoning the weight of his body on his outstretched arms behind him, watching attentively FC Barcha return to their positions to begin the third play.
"Nicklaus is truly amazing." the bluenette commented, and Kurona nodded again, his expression neutral since he was already aware of that information.
The door to the room opened, and crossing the threshold was not just one, but the entire remaining Bastard München team.
Isagi squinted his eyelids in confusion.
Usually only he and the others from the Blue Lock were interested in watching other people's games, so he didn't understand at all why they were suddenly all there at that hour.
The answer to his inner doubt came when Noel Noa walked through the doorway, telling the team members to sit down and watch.
"I'm sorry coach, but I don't get why we are here." one of them asked the question they all wanted to ask, paying no attention to the bodies of Kaiser and Ness who in the meantime were making room between all of them to go sit in the front with the Blue Lock candidates.
Not Kunigami.
He stood in the corner looking like a bad emo boy feeling hatred for the world.
"A little bird sang for me a few days ago, and his sweet lyrics were about picking the Ubers in the match against us." Kaiser loudly affirmed with his smile that had nothing innocent about it, drawing all the stares on him.
Isagi, unfortunately for him at his side, raised an eyebrow at the German's metaphorical words.
The blond smiled wryly, leaning his body toward the bluenette and bringing his lips close to his ear.
"I mean my beautiful devil, Yoichi-"
The latter shuddered, disgusted by the boy's proximity. Immediately he moved a few inches toward Kurona, who confusedly cast a glance at his friend before ignoring him and returning with his gaze fixed on the screen.
Noel nodded, crossing his arms in front of his chest and peering sternly at the same game he had started watching in his office before Kaiser interrupted him to reveal what the girl had told him.
"Apparently Nicklaus has already made his choice for the next match. So I want you to watch him and try to empathize with his opponents since none of you, with the exception of the Blue Lock candidates, have ever been in that situation." the coach explained further, linking both the reason they were in that room and what the young striker with the blond hair and blue locks had said.
The team's original starters grimaced in disagreement, while the candidates from the Blue Lock returned their attention to the screen, on which a one-on-one clash between Nicklaus and Barou was currently portrayed.
When the boy gave her a violent shove, Raichi uttered a series of swear words under his breath.
In a villa, Abigail worriedly listened to the Italian curse words of a certain manager, who was ready to file a complaint if anyone dared to break his athlete's shoulder.
Nicole smirked, ignoring the way her body was falling to the right and extending her left foot toward the ball, kicking it under the black-haired boy's legs. Again.
Immediately the quads and calves of her supporting leg tensed up, and taking advantage of the fact that Barou had now also lost his center of gravity, the only thing keeping him from not falling being her figure under his, she sprinted forward.
As soon as she saw that waiting for the ball was an additional defender, jersey number five, she stretched out her foot and pulled the ball back under her own legs.
From the left, jersey number eight attacked her, putting an arm in front of her torso and trying to get her off balance to take possession of the game.
"They encircled him." commented Isagi, leaning forward with his body and trying to understand what he would do in such a situation.
Nicole blocked the ball between her ankle and the back of her shoe, letting herself fall backward and getting up with a handstand push-up.
Raichi annoyed and secretly amazed "fucking show off" was ignored.
"Well, it's the dancer striker's team after all." asserted Yo Hiori, gazing in astonishment at the grace with which the redhead could mix soccer and other skills.
"Still, it won't do much if all he can do is dodge-" the German stratum goalkeeper's words were blocked as soon as the character let the ball bounce in front of himself.
They saw his body tilt at an angle where it should have been easy to lose balance. The palm of his hand touched the ground and the back of his foot sank into the ball just before it touched the floor.
The sphere created a near-perfect parabola that, skimming just over the ground, passed quickly through the middle of the goalkeeper's feet before sinking into the goal net.
3–0
Isagi and Igarashi stood up immediately, shocked, bewildered, left open mouthed.
Kunigami became tense. His orange eyes, now brighter as he widened them in astonishment and horror, remained fixed on the figure with redhead lying on his side.
"Fuck, that chick scares the shit out of me." Raichi murmured under his palm, his words unnoticed.
"The inclination of his body was similar to the Itoshi brothers', don't you think Isagi?" asked Aryu, watching the red-haired figure being assaulted (again) by the yellow and brown-haired dribbler.
Isagi shook his head.
"No, Nicklaus' doesn't bend his upper body to balance his position. He even put a hand on the ground to support himself. It's something I've never seen in here..." his eyebrows suddenly furrowed and his eyes slowly shifted to the blond German next to him, almost as if sensing a strange energy from him.
Kaiser was carefully and obsessively scrutinizing the red-haired boy's face, while in his head the replay of that shot played over and over again.
"You're such a perfect little thing, my gorgeous devil." he murmured, and Ness's violet eyes shifted from the TV set to point at the striker.
He stared at the profile of the blonde's face, looking at the way his cobalt blue eyes shone under the LED lights of the screen.
The midfielder slowly looked toward the television again, his purple gems fixed on the character that was too rapidly becoming a main protagonist in his Kaiser's life.
Noel Noa kept his cold, icy eyes on the girl's image, not daring for a moment to look away. His thumb caressed unconsciously the index finger, while he rethought about everything unpredictable she did in those thirty minutes of game.
He saw those red eyes shift to one of the cameras that were filming her, and a smile that had nothing innocent about it appear on her lips, almost as if to mock all those who were watching her and who at that moment were admiring and fearing her at the same time.
Nicole Vinciguerra...
But him, Noel Noa, he was the one who felt mocked the most.
...I wonder how it'll feel when I'll lose to you.
_______________________
Ego and the old man are more or less two sides of the same coin (but Ego's actions are the result of his fear of losing her)
- The old man doesn't care to manipulate her mentally since he already has control over her body and her social status. Moreover, since he also fears losing Nicole, he gives her certain freedoms from a psychological perspective knowing she values her mind.
- Ego instead, since he lacks that physical control and actually cannot threaten her in any way (something the old man does), attempts to compensate by trying to control her mentally.
Oliver isn't even concerned about losing. He's too busy watching her sly smile that he loves so much and has missed so dearly.
The old man got angry when Barou bumped into Nicole. Not because he cares about her, but because it's crucial that his athlete doesn't have traumas that could hinder sports. Indeed, he hits and mistreats her, but never in a way that could jeopardize her success. He inflicts serious harm only in the absence of championships or press conferences.
As an author, what the old man has thought (namely, that when Nicole realizes that Ego is trying to emotionally oppress her, she'll return to him) is something I believe as well.
________________________
Author
We've finally returned to some action. Honestly, I love the idea of the pack hunters' attack; it has something animalistic and strategic, and it's especially unsettling against a defense that should theoretically be indestructible.
What do you think about the Nicole-Bachira-Otoya trio? (I remind you that both of them know the true identity of the protagonist.)
And well, if you have any other thoughts, feel free to share. Maybe I'll release a chapter for Christmas; who knows if I'll manage to send you wishes.
That said, bye bye